


Heated Chocolate

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:51:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ignis likes these quiet days of blustery winds and chill air, where he can have Noctis over to experiment.





	Heated Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



It had always seemed fitting that Ignis had chosen an apartment above his favourite market. The building was within an easy walk of Noctis’ own, and still within the long, stretching shadow of the Citadel. In the morning, he could sip his coffee and watch the traffic of the city move and flow in its never-ending cycle, watching the night lights fade in the sunlight reflected in the shine of the glass and metal of the buildings around him. 

In autumn, it made the whole city seem alive in fiery colours. 

Most quiet days, he watched the flow of traffic well before his phone reminded him of appointments and meetings and requests for the Prince’s time. A steady hum of chimes and notifications requesting his attention. On the rare days when the schedule was clear, Ignis would sip at his coffee and watch Noctis cross the busy streets. 

On days like this— when the skeletal trees were waving in the wind, and the city banners and flags, shop awnings and signs dancing in the bluster of the day— Noctis crossed the street with his hands tucked deep into his jacket pockets. His hair a mess in the winds as Ignis watched, a smile playing on his lips. Before Noctis reached the door that separated the apartment from the market, Ignis texted him a list of things to pick up on his way. 

It would only be a matter of time before the apartment was bustling. Before the harsh winds battering the city, the chill of the late autumn season, were forgotten for the warmth coming from Ignis’ own kitchen. 

He would smile, as Noctis teased him away from his experiments. He would pretend to scold his Prince, half an eye of the cocoa he was making. The apartment would be warmed by the scent of the tick chocolate, the dash of cinnamon and spice, the splash of cream to thicken the mixture. And Noctis would tease him away from the experiment, laughing with each gentle rebuff and admonishing kiss. 

The apartment would be filled with the heat of whatever soup Ignis had decided on (a stew, today, to ease the chill of the late autumn winds), Noctis beaming over the mug of cocoa he had been gifted as Ignis had him taste every little bit and pieces and new change. The heat of the recipes would wrap around them both, and Ignis would follow each taste with a kiss— heated as the pot on the stove burbled happily. 

“It’s like magic,” Noctis teased, licking his lips before sipping from the hot chocolate cradled in his hands. 

“Hardly,” Ignis smiled, wooden spoon returned to the pot as he adjusted his work; “just a simple mix of ingredients, Noctis.”

“A potion.”

There had been a touch of cinnamon, a taste of maple, the cream to thicken and smooth. He had nutmeg and cayenne to flavour, muttered words of easy love passed between himself and Noctis as he made the drink. 

“Don’t be silly.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

The easy banter rested between them, as Ignis tested and tasted and adjusted with a dash of spice or a change in temperature. He would smile, teased to the surface by the amused gleam in Noctis’ eyes. And Ignis would refuse to marvel at how easily he smiled around Noctis. “Only if I must.”

As the stew simmered, Ignis would let Noctis distract him. He tapped the utensil against the pot and grinned as Noctis licked a line of errant chocolate from the pristine mug. He watched, enraptured, as Noctis shifted from the tall stool Ignis kept for easy seating, to standing, a quirk of his lips a summon. He would move around the island counter where Noctis rested with his elbows on the clean counters. He would let his hands rest on Noctis’ hips, hands warmed from heat of the stove slipped beneath Noctis’ loose shirt. 

“You’re going to make me spill my hot chocolate, Specs,” Noctis offered a cheeky smile, but hips canting back against Ignis behind him. 

“And we can’t have that,” lips pressed to the back of Noctis’ neck. “I’m told it’s magic.”

“Absolutely,” but Noctis hummed, taking a sip even as Ignis rested against him, pressed against him. 

There was a soft burble from the simmering stew, and Ignis slipped his hands from Noctis’ side. He trailed the touch, feather light, along Noctis’ arms instead, and cupped his hands. “Perhaps I should stop then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“And if I do dare?”

Ignis had only meant to tease, to offer a playful smile while the heat and sweetness from Noctis’ drink coiled around them both like this and the apartment filled with promise of spices in the stew. He had only meant to let his lips rest against Noctis’ neck for a second, with a playful little movement to remind Noctis of their promises and plans made for these quiet sorts of days. 

The whine that he drew from Noctis as he pulled away to tend his cooking had him grinning. “Patience, Noct.”

“Fuck patience.”

“I agree,” Ignis slipped back so the counter was between them again, and Noctis glaring over his mug. “But shortly, I’ll fuck you.”

“You’d better.”

“I promise, darling.”


End file.
